Dreams Are Made Of
by Kali1
Summary: Bruce has a really peculiar dream.


**Dreams Are Made Of...**

**By Kali**

**Author's Foreword: **_Um, what to say? I had posted this story a few weeks ago, back in March, on the Toon Zone fanfic board (Which is a great board, btw). This story is a bit weird, and dark. I like to approach stories/characters from different angles at times, so Well, anyhow, this weird little story was inspired by a strange dream that I had. As well as Gotham Knights #24, Batman #590, Batman: Ego, LOTDK "Bad" arc, and the little B&W back-up story in Gotham Knights #20, that was written by Julius Schwartz and Dan Raspler. As well as, inspired by Doug Moench's Batman stories from around #540 - #550, and Batman #377. I'm approaching it from a somewhat DID (AKA MPD) angle. Though it's set in a dreamscape reality._

"This could all be a dream. A seriously twisted dream," commented Matches Malone as he wandered around looking at their somewhat Spartan and confining surroundings. They were seemingly stuck in an enclosed gray area. The they' being himself, Batman, billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne, and a withdrawn young boy. 

"You really believe that?" Bruce Wayne asked hopefully. 

"Yes. I mean, the other me' is dead. I'm not really real. So, either we're cracking up, or this is just one whacked out dream. Maybe that broad's death was also part of the dream?" 

"No," Batman responded icily. Rather annoyed at the lot of them. At least the boy had sense of mind to stay quiet. 

"No?" Bruce Wayne asked the imposing figure before him. He had been hoping against hope that Matches had been onto something. That maybe things weren't as bad as they seemed. And they could just wake up, and everything could go back to normal. Well, more or less, anyway. He missed his little outings. He rarely ever got to go out and do things. And if the Batman had his way, which he often did, he might not ever get to go out again. Of course, on the other hand, if this was just a dream. He might not be really real' himself. Just a subconscious representative of the real' Bruce Wayne's fears made real' in his dream state. 

Batman sighed, shaking his head in frustration. Despite how he may have wished it otherwise, the facts were undeniable. "She's really dead," Batman stated somberly. 

"Really? Truly?" Bruce Wayne asked, as his hopes went down the tubes. He knew it was useless to argue with the Bat. But, what other choice did he have? Besides, he had a reputation as one of the dimmest bulbs around. So why not live up to that expectation? 

"Yes! Why do I have to repeat myself to you!? You were there! You saw the body!" Batman shouted angrily. Growing even more frustrated by the second. He knew that the playboy fop Bruce Wayne had been constructed to be an idiot. It had been by dint of design. But now, due to circumstances beyond their control, things had to change. The playboy fop had to go the way of the dodo bird. And if he didn't like it, tough. 

"No. No, he wasn't. That was me," the young boy responded quietly, not even lifting his eyes off of his project on the floor. It was the first time he had spoken during their current period of seeming entrapment within the gray void. 

"What?" Batman looked at the boy, a bit astonished. He had assumed that the boy had been 'quiet' just in general. But now... Now he wondered if it was the boy who had been causing his blackouts. 

"So, the kid can talk, after all," Matches smirked. 

"You heard what I said," the boy responded. Still not looking up from his project. 

"But?" 

"It was me, who dated Vesper. Before, and to some degree, just recently. You just tried to suppress me," the boy responded with a tinge of anger, as he briefly glanced up to look at Batman. 

"I did not," Batman insisted, scowling. 

"You did too. Just like you did with him!" The boy exclaimed, pointing at the playboy fop. 

"What? He's not even real. He's just a façade. An idiot mask we put on to fool people!" Batman exclaimed, as he threw up his hands in disgust. 

"I resent that! I have feelings too, you know!" Bruce Wayne growled, as he pointed a finger straight in front of Batman's nose. "Now, I don't know about the others. But, I think I deserve a little more respect from you!" 

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me! This is just some weird dream that I'm having. I'm the real one. Not you! Never you!" Batman ranted, stomping off in frustration. Only getting a few yards away from his erstwhile companions. 

"Jeez, Bats. Do you have to be so all or nothing? Besides, I thought you didnt agree with me on the whole dream thingy?" Matches asked in a slightly amused tone. 

"About this being a dream? That, I agree on. It's the part about Vesper's death being a dream, that I dont agree on." 

"Oh. Still no need to rip that poor fella's head off," Matches responded, giving the playboy a look of sympathy. "I mean, I'm not exactly mister nice guy myself, and yet, I feel sorry for the poor bloke. Cause of how you treat him. He's disposable to you!" 

"He's not real. And neither are you!" 

"Well, that's debatable, you know. I could argue that the kid over there is the real' one, and the rest of us... Well, we three could be just puppets designed by him to protect himself from the outside world." 

"You really believe that?" The boy inquired of Matches. 

"Well, it's a possibility." 

"But, that's... that's insane." 

"As I said, a possibility." 

"But, there is nothing wrong with us. We're fine!" The boy demanded. 

"Um kiddo, the very fact that you keep on mentioning an us' tends to support the idea that everything is not okay-dokey in our little noggin." 

"But, we don't have multiple personality disorder!" 

"Then why do you keep saying we'?" 

"I... I..." 

"What's with this? Huh? First you seem to accept that we four are different personas all together, and now you want to deny it. What's up with that?" 

"You were the one who suggested that this," the boy began, stressing the last word, "may all be a dream. So, it's you who seems to flip-flop back and forth on this." 

"Well, I think this situation is a bit complicated. Not to mention confusing. So, I flip-flop' a little, so sue me!" 

"Critics of DID, or MPD as it used to be called, have said that psychiatrists can cause the condition through hypnosis. So maybe, Hugo's behind this?" 

"Aw, jeez! Now you're sounding like Batman! Ya know, kid, I think I liked you better when you kept your trap shut." 

************************************************************************************* 

A short while later, things weren't going much better. They were still stuck in a quagmire. The seeming dream continuing on indefinitely, much to all their chagrin. 

"Where did the gun go? What happened to it?!" The boy begged Batman. 

"I don't know." 

"What?! How can you not know!? You made me buy the damned thing!" 

"Um, this is just a suggestion, folks. So, don't go biting my head off. But, what if we aren't alone in here? What if there is someone else, in here, as well?" Matches commented. 

"Here you go again. With your damned MPD theory!" Batman hissed, giving Matches an angry scowl. 

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong but, didn't you just admit to having blackouts?" Matches retorted, feeling a bit frustrated himself. 

"I admitted to no such thing," Batman insisted through gritted teeth. 

"Uh, you just said that you don't know what happened to the gun. That's pretty much admitting it right there." 

"Score one for Matches!" The playboy exclaimed with a grin. 

"You, shut up!" Batman yelled, pointing his finger threateningly at the playboy for a brief moment. Then he whirled around to face Matches. "You... For all I know, the gun could have been stolen." 

This can't be happening, the boy thought to himself as he sat back down on the cold, hard floor. Their surroundings had changed to reflect the place that had been their home away from the Manor. While it was not a true representation of the cave as it was now, it was pretty darned close. The only thing missing were the bats. 

Regardless, he found himself lost in thought, pondering the situation that they were in. As Matches and Batman continued to argue back and forth. With the other' him piping up on rare occasions. 

_:::It has to be some sort of dream. Or, one of Scarecrow's mind tricks. Or... Or... What? Some diabolical, evil villain's scheme that has so far gone undetected? Like that guy I mentioned before, Hugo Strange? He held us prisoner not so long ago. And something like this would be right up his alley._

_Or, maybe it's something else. Maybe the reintegration didn't go so well, after that one JLA case. The one where our identities were split into two. Except, that wouldn't explain Matches or me. _

_Or, maybe it's something I ate. Yeah, that's a possibility, right? Perhaps, I've poisoned myself with my own cooking? I thought that soup tasted a little funny.:::_

"Ah, yes. This really is the symbiotic living arrangement from hell, isnt it," Matches commented harshly. Throwing one of his trademarked lit matches to the floor, and stomping on it in an attempt to relieve some of the aggravation that he felt. 

"Matches," Batman growled. But, before he could get any further, the boy stood up between them. Interrupting the heated discussion between him and Matches. 

"I'm sick to death of you! I want my life back!" The boy exclaimed, shaking his clenched fist at the cloaked figure before him. 

"And what life would that be, perchance? Family, friends, a girlfriend? You remember what happened to your last girlfriend, don't you?" 

"............" The boy's eyes opened wide, with horror. Then, just as quickly he clenched his eyes shut. Trying to block out the memories Batman's comments had stirred up. He failed, and crumpled to the floor in a heap, as tears started to form in his eyes. 

"Damn, Bats, you're cold," Matches commented, as he watched the young boy quietly crying on the cave floor. 

Ignoring Matches, Batman continued on, "This whole mess would have been resolved much quicker, if you hadn't of moved the body." 

"Damn, you're really cold," Matches muttered with disgust. 

"I wasn't created to be warm and fuzzy. I was created to protect," Batman responded, glaring at Matches. 

"So, now you're admitting it," Matches commented smugly. 

"Yes. Except you failed miserably at protecting those closest to me. The boys...." The boy started, as he wiped away his tears and looked defiantly up at the Batman. 

"Will be ***fine***. They are better off for this." 

"Are they?" the boy asked, defiance still coloring his voice. 

"Yes," Batman insisted. 

"I don't think so. I really don't. Protecting them, by hurting them, is not something I care for," the boy commented sadly, shaking his head in dismay. 

"So, you'd rather be selfish? Endanger their lives?" Batman asked, incredulous. 

"No. Thats the last thing that I want." 

"Then what do you suggest?" 

"I have a plan. Call it a contingency plan, if you will." 

"Oh?" Batman asked. 

"I think you'll like it. We'll both get what we want, if it works," the boy smiled ominously. 

"Uh oh, I hate it when he does that," Matches said, as he nervously touched the matches in his lucky matchbook. Rubbing the head of a match with his thumb. 

"But... But, he's never done that before," The Playboy stated with confused bewilderment. 

"Exactly," Matches sighed. 

"Huh?" The Playboy gave Matches a confused glance. 

"Don't worry, Brucie. You'll learn soon enough," Matches confided as he patted the playboy on the back. 

**Disclaimer**: _All Batman characters are the property of DC Comics. This little fan fiction is meant as pure, harmless fun, and as such, no profit is being made from it. _


End file.
